Metamorphosis of the elf

Close these eyes,

Shatter these dreams,

Scratch this skin,

Hide this smile,

Hurt these senses;

Until her shadow cries.

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I may be a wicked elf,

But I have my dreams.

Kill me.

Don't wring my heart.

Crush my body to its smallest piece.

Don't let my passions die.

Let me hold these colors once;

Let me see the sky.

Let me love my dreams for a moment;

Before you take my hands away.

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My fingers may be stubby,

My feet may be small.

I stand upright,

I do not crawl.

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My eyes refuse to accept passive tears by Agnes-Cecile